


Home in these arms

by Likealichen (Khalehla), likealichen



Series: Arm Candy [2]
Category: Captain America (Movies)
Genre: Bucky Barnes's Metal Arm, Domestic Fluff, M/M, Post-Captain America: Civil War (Movie)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-16
Updated: 2017-03-16
Packaged: 2018-10-06 01:25:40
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,495
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10322354
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Khalehla/pseuds/Likealichen, https://archiveofourown.org/users/likealichen/pseuds/likealichen
Summary: Steve finds Home





	

Steve has always had an appreciation for Bucky’s arms.

Before the serum, when they lived in their shitty apartment and Bucky was more lean than muscular and much too skinny for someone who worked at the docks, these were the arms that kept him warm through the freezing winters, wrapped his knuckles when teaching him to box, fed him soup with the constant pleas of “don’t die on me, punk; don’t you dare give up on me now.”

Steve learnt safety and acceptance and the concept of Home in those arms; it would just take him dirt and ice and decades of loss to finally realise it.

After Azzano, Steve had started to notice the change. How Bucky had bulked up during his time in the war, and despite being lean in the way only soldiers constantly on the march could be, there was nothing but power in his muscles. Steve was reminded of this in the way that Bucky would hold his rifle: firm, with purpose, but gentle like a lover knowing exactly how to get the best out of what was in his hands. Every time Howard or someone from the munitions team would have him a newer (more accurate, better range, etc) model, Bucky would learn his new gun like the way Steve would learn tactics and schematics and all the ways they could try to win the war.

Perhaps the only time Steve had ever hated Bucky’s arms were when they were just out of reach, not long enough for him to grasp and save Bucky from falling.

Even in the new century, the first time Steve had fought the Winter Soldier, when Bucky had caught his shield with an outstretched hand and a menacing face, he couldn’t deny the admiration in such an incredible feat, because surely only Thor could stop his thrown shield with that type of strength. And after, as they fought hand to hand for survival, Steve trying with everything he had to gain the upper hand, a part of him had been thrilled at finding someone who was almost his equal in might and fight and he subconsciously wondered how it would feel to spar with the Winter Soldier and truly test himself.

Steve never liked fighting with weapons, his shield being his only concession to that rule if he could help it, but even he could admit that the metal arm was probably one of the most beautiful and graceful weapons he had ever seen wielded.

It was only during the Civil War, while they were on the run from the government agencies and the other half of the Avengers, that Steve found the opportunity to admire how seamlessly Bucky used his metal arm as though it was natural extension of him, rather than an appendage grafted to him with the purpose of causing others damage and the owner pain. Bucky would use it to stop bullets, write in his notebook, fight with his shield, punch through barriers.

It’s only when the arm is ripped from him courtesy of Tony’s repulsor beam that Steve realises that Bucky had never once touched him with it outside of a fight. It’s something he didn’t even know he wanted to experience until that choice was taken away from them.

Later, when Bucky is sitting in the Wakanda med lab, the remains of his left shoulder covered with a cap and Bucky struggling to compensate for the loss of the arm, that Steve mourns. He mourns every moment from losing Bucky on the train to finding Bucky as the Winter Soldier, and once again having to say good-bye. He’ll respect Bucky’s choice because Bucky has spent too many years being forced to act against his will, but this doesn’t stop Steve from wanting to beg him to stay.

Steve waits until it’s just him in the room, watches Bucky resting in the cryo chamber, touches his hand to the glass, the plea of _Bucky Bucky Bucky_ running through his mind.

Now, as he quietly makes his way into their suite after an invigorating run in the jungle with Sam, trying to catch Bucky off-guard as his best friend frowns in concentration at the computer, making notes of the various intricate steps needed to create the latest baked goods to add to what’s now become 'Bucky Barnes' Recipes For When He Decides To Start His Own Bakery', Steve slips his sweaty arms around Bucky’s waist, not even surprised at Bucky’s lack of reaction because Bucky could almost supernaturally sense when Steve was close. Well, _near_ lack of reaction, since Bucky pauses the YouTube video so he can look over his shoulder and wrinkle his nose.

“You know most people would take a shower before touching someone else if they’ve just finished working out.”

Steve rubs his face into the crook of Bucky’s neck, grinning at the “punk” he gets before his arms are pried away from Bucky’s waist. “Whatcha got there? Another recipe?”

“I told Wanda apple cake is your favourite, and she asked me to bake so she could, and I quote “have a taste of a true American icon”.”

It’s Steve’s turn to wrinkle his nose. “She didn’t really say that did she?”

Bucky grins. “Yeah she did. And you know, how can I resist when she puts it like _that?_ ”

Steve just rolls his eyes, both of them ignoring the fact that Steve had effectively given up his status as an American icon when he dropped the shield for Bucky.

“I got me a few slightly overripe apples from the kitchen to practice on,” Bucky says, moving to the kitchen and taking his laptop with him. Sure enough, there’s a whole bowl full of apples. “Can you believe I found German and French versions of the cake? All of them different. We’ll see which ones we like best.”

Steve watches as Bucky picks through the fruit bowl, gently squeezing the apples _with his left hand_ to see if they are ripe enough to bake. Even now it makes Steve swallow to see him so comfortable with his new arm, able to feel more than just pressure and various and levels of heat and cold. Although not as sensitive as his real arm, it provided Bucky with a wider ranges of feeling than the older, bulkier Soviet model, and the way in which Bucky used it doing every day things made Steve almost forget what he'd so painfully lost all those decades ago.

When Bucky voluntarily went back under the ice, Steve had mourned never being able to give Bucky a hug, or even really touch or be touched in the short period of time they were together. They’d lost so much; Bucky losing his arm was only a physical, painful representation of all they’d lost, and Steve had longed for those innocent simpler days when his hurts could be wiped away and his many illnesses were easier to bear in the shelter of Bucky’s arms.

But now. Now Steve was free to touch as much as he wanted. He could hold and caress and press his hands to skin that held together a body broken and beaten for so long but beyond beautiful in his eyes. And Steve could _be_ touched and  held and caressed and made to yearn for _more more more_ without the guilt of knowing the pain that those arms had had to experience first. He's still in awe, seeing Bucky with his new, lighter, better, less painful arm, a gift from T’Challa and Wakanda that Steve would never, ever take for granted.

Suddenly overwhelmed at the gratitude of just having Bucky here, whole and safe and if not healed but at least not so broken as before, Steve reaches out and takes Bucky’s hand - the left one - and slowly brings it to his lips, never once breaking eye contact when Bucky looks up at him in surprise. Underneath his lips he can feel surprising warmth, and he closes his eyes for a second as the kiss lingers, enjoying the way Bucky swipes his thumb against Steve’s skin lightly in response.

When Steve finally lets go, Bucky is smiling at him in that soft way of his that is becoming much more common now, a mix of wonder and gratefulness that Steve knows is common on his own face as well now.

“I’m gonna take a shower, then I’ll help you with the cakes.”

“Really?” Bucky asks, eyebrows lifting. “You’re actually gonna help me bake this time?”

“Of course, how else are you gonna know if they’re any good if I don’t help you taste them?”

Bucky lets out a loud laugh, then flicks him on the ear to let him know exactly what he thinks of Steve’s idea of help. “Punk,” he says fondly. “Go take your shower; you stink.”

Steve heads to the bathroom, grinning in pure joy, because Bucky was here, and in his arms was Home.

Steve was finally Home.

**Author's Note:**

> [I'm on tumblr,](http://likealichen.tumblr.com/) come say hi :)


End file.
